“I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those

reckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things
that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”


At these words, seemingly in response to them, a sudden wail sounded, a terrible,

drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Many of those at the table looked downward, startled,
for the sound had seemed to issue from below their feet.


“Wormtail,” said Voldemort, with no change in his quiet, thoughtful tone, and

without removing his eyes from the revolving body above, “have I not spoken to you
about keeping our prisoner quiet?”